


I'll Come Home To You

by pietromavximoff



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Soulmates, bethyl, different ending to alone because i'm still in denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26643904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pietromavximoff/pseuds/pietromavximoff
Summary: ‘Oh.’Daryl had known for some time that Beth Greene had found her way into his heart. He knew it wasn’t possible, for her to do it alone, and so he concluded weeks ago that he must have been the one to give her the map that led her there.Alternate ending to Alone where Beth and Daryl's conversation doesn't get interrupted.
Relationships: Bethyl - Relationship, Daryl Dixon & Beth Greene, Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Comments: 10
Kudos: 77





	I'll Come Home To You

_‘Oh.’_

Daryl had known for some time that Beth Greene had found her way into his heart. He knew it wasn’t possible, for her to do it alone, and so he concluded weeks ago that he must have been the one to give her the map that led her there. From the night they’d lit the moonshine shack on fire, flames engulfing the rotting wood, they’d been walking as two strangers for the first time, starting anew. They’d yelled and they’d cried and they’d bled the whole world dry of any other emotion it could spare. And Daryl had thought right after the fire, as they camped in a small clearing in the dark woods, that maybe Beth knew a lot of things he didn’t. He had protected her up until then, but he knew now, as he looked at her curled up in a restless sleep, that she had kept him alive.

For weeks after that, they’d wandered through the woods trying to find something, anything, that could be something resembling a home. They weren’t fool enough to think that they’d have anything like what they had at the prison – and although they were both a lot warmer to each other, they didn’t talk about what happened that day. About what they’d lost, or who they’d lost. It was an unwritten rule, if they were to start over. But still, Daryl couldn’t help the gnawing feeling he’d get in the pit of his stomach every now and then when he would hear Beth whimpering in her sleep. She had lost more than he had that day.

The first week they had a silent sort of understanding, embers in their eyes when they remembered that night they’d shared on the porch, moonshine loosening their tongues and moonlight exposing their shadows. But after a while, the silence waned. Beth would sit up while Daryl was on watch, sleepy head perched precariously on her knees as she looked out to the dark woods thoughtfully. Sometimes she’d hum softly under her breath, and Daryl would search for the grating irritation he’d thought he’d have at the sound and find himself quite empty of it. Other times, she would ask him if he was tired or hungry. He’d always shake his head, offering little else to the conversation but it seemed to be enough for Beth, because at his muted replies he was not greeted with the same silence.

It weighed on him, that he was probably the last person she wanted to be stuck with, after seeing her father murdered in front of her and not knowing the fate of her sister. It occurred to him that she was lonely. She always had people to talk to at the prison, always had people who wanted to talk to her. It hadn’t escaped him, even before, how Beth was bright, how she seemed to attract people with the sheer nature of her personality. And although Daryl was never one to make conversation, to even indulge it half the time, something had shifted between them since the night of the fire, and from then on he found that he wanted to talk to her. And so she’d stay up with him when she was meant to be sleeping and she’d lean against the tree in front of the dying fire and they’d share a tattered blanket and there was no one around to listen to their sleep-deprived ramblings but the cicadas. Sometimes they’d talk about what their plan was for the next day, or how they should ration their food, but most times it was this; soft words exchanged in the pitch black about things that they didn’t need to talk about, things that shouldn’t matter anymore, but they did anyway. It was Beth telling Daryl stories from before, of how her and Maggie once snuck out of the house to go to some party or how her family would decorate the whole farm in glistening tinsel and sparking lights for Christmas. It was Beth talking and Daryl listening, sometimes turning to see her outline in the dark, sometimes finding that he too was able to get lost in her memories with her when she spoke of them so fondly. And every now and then, he’d give her something, a piece of himself that he’d never given to anyone before. Some story from before that he hadn’t thought of in years or a few reassuring words or just a nod that showed he was listening, he was there. They’d agreed, the night of the moonshine, that they were starting over, that they could not stay who they had been. And Daryl found it was easy, to tell her things about himself that he’d never dreamed he would tell anyone, because he no longer had to carry the weight of them around. Before long Daryl had given her enough pieces of himself that he could tell she’d noticed the shift between them, too.

Neither of them said anything, but they could feel it getting louder and louder in everything they did. A close call with a walker did not mean a quick look-over and a nod when realising no one had been hurt. Now it was rushed hands pushing back clothing, worrying at bloodstains, eager to ensure the other hadn’t been bitten. Now it was Beth’s gentle prod on the shoulder when she could tell Daryl was tired and offering to take watch the rest of the night instead. Now it was Daryl giving Beth the rest of his food because she was getting too skinny but would never dream of bringing up how hungry she was. They’d been like that a while, in a comfortable middle ground, where they both knew that something had changed but neither of them had brought it to attention.

But it was too obvious, Daryl knew, in how angry he got whenever Beth had a near-miss with a walker, or whenever he couldn’t load his crossbow fast enough and she was forced to put herself at risk for him. He’d never been good at hiding his feelings simply because he’d never needed to. He’d never had feelings like this before. But that he cared for her was all over his face and in his voice and he knew she must begin to see it, too.

Daryl started teaching Beth how to track a few days before they’d found the funeral home. She was a quick learner and it gave him an odd feeling of warmth each time she’d correctly guess what they were tracking, turning to him with her bright eyes and a half-smile on her face, teasing him that she would be better than him by the time they were done.

Sometimes, he thought, she looked at him as though she could see something else there. Sometimes, the way her eyes lingered over his face, or on his arms when she thought he wasn’t looking, or even the way she’d curl up against his body at night and say it was for warmth. Daryl was everyday giving parts of himself over to her, and in return, he was getting parts of her, and he thought that he’d be content if they could be like this forever, stuck in an endless loop of rediscovering themselves together. They had meant to rebuild themselves after the fire but it seemed that they’d just fused together instead, and that was not what they’d intended but it was somehow better. They had found what they needed to start over in each other.

Beth had been what she always was; bright and good and full of unwavering faith but now it was different. Now, she put her faith in Daryl instead of anything else and he could feel it corded through his muscles and floating in the air around his head. It wasn’t just that she believed in him, but that he believed in her and she knew that now, too. Perhaps he’d always believed in her, in some form of her, even back at the prison, where all their interactions had been minimal, when she’d walk around the empty cell block while he was trying to sleep and sing Judith a lullaby with words that sounded ridiculous for a baby but angelic coming out of her mouth. She didn’t know it, but she’d lulled him to sleep with her voice more times than he could count. Maybe even then, he’d believed in her and just never noticed her quiet strength up until now.

_‘Oh.’_

Daryl didn’t move a muscle, barely breathing as he watched Beth take in the weight of what he hadn’t said. Her voice echoed in his head as he searched her eyes.

_What changed your mind?_

Beth didn’t answer right away and Daryl was thrown into images from that day, from her bubbling laughter as he’d complained that she’d been going to slow before sweeping his hands under her legs and carrying her into the kitchen, to the way she’d hobbled out on her injured foot when she thought she might get to see a dog.

Daryl had never put much stock into faith or religion but he thought that believing in Beth Greene was as close to a god as he’d get.

Daryl had known that he could no longer hide it once he’d heard her sing that day by the piano. He’d been going to tell her something but the moment he heard her voice his mind grew blank, and he was unable to move from his spot by the door, not being able to do anything but admire her. And suddenly this house was what they’d been searching for. They could make it safe – build fences and clear the surroundings and scavenge until they had enough food so they didn’t have to put themselves at risk so often. This was somewhere they could stay for a long time. They could keep each other safe and they could build a life. Maybe something more. Beth could sing by the piano everyday, all day if she wanted to, and Daryl would be content to just be able to hear her voice floating through a window while he built a fence or cleared the dead outside.

Beth must know by now, that she’d changed everything. Not just Daryl’s mind about good people. She’d changed him and she’d saved him, pulled him out of a dark place not by forcing him but by standing beside him and helping him look for the way out.

_Oh._

The moment passed. Daryl cleared his throat, turning away before Beth could speak.

‘Go find a room to crash in, I’ll pack this up.’ He offered, on his feet and blowing out the candles behind them, trying to ignore the twisting in his gut at his own admission.

‘Daryl –’ Beth started, standing up but being forced back down by her injury, wincing.

Daryl turned back around. ‘Y’alright?’

Beth looked up, blue eyes darting between his. He knew she wanted to say something about what he’d practically confessed to her just then, but he did not think he had it in him to lose her right now. Daryl had never known what it was like to nurture something, to have a small feeling steadily grow into something he no longer had a name for, but now that he did he realised just how rare it truly was. How terrifying it was to entrust to the one person who had the power to destroy it. Beth Greene would always be too good for him, in any life. And it wasn’t him being self-depreciating for once but knowing the cold, hard fact that Beth was the light no matter where she was. Daryl had never known light until he had known her. And he didn’t know if he was doing this right or what he was supposed to be doing at all, but he knew that she deserved so much more than this world would ever give her. He knew that he wanted to try. And he knew that he would not lose her even if she did not feel the same way for him.

‘C’mon, let’s get you comfortable.’ Daryl offered, placing her arm around his shoulder as he guided her out of the kitchen. She grabbed a tall candle before they began to move down the hall slowly, stopping when they got to a room that had a clean single bed in the middle. Daryl took the candle off Beth and she wobbled to the bed, collapsing on it gratefully.

‘You think they’ll come back?’ She asked softly as he scoured the room, setting the candle in a corner.

‘Mm.’ Daryl bent, pulling at something from the back of a dusty cupboard that turned out to be a blanket. ‘Don’t worry,’ he muttered, echoing himself from moments ago, ‘we’ll make it work.’

When he looked at her, she was smiling. ‘I know we will.’

Daryl nodded, chewing the inside of his lip as he watched her. ‘Good.’ He cleared his throat, throwing her the blanket. ‘Get some rest.’

As he began moving out of the room, Beth sat up, expression troubled. ‘Daryl?’

The sound of her voice calling his name out like that made his heart ache. He turned around to look at her once more. Beth’s eyes were wide and her lips were slightly parted and her knitted cardigan was falling off her shoulder but she didn’t seem to notice. She took in a deep breath and didn’t breathe out until she said, ‘stay.’

Something inside Daryl was twisting, something that knew although this was new to him he could not pretend he felt anything other than longing at that one word from her lips. There was no fooling himself even though he was afraid of how foreign this all was to him. He wanted this, wanted to stay by her for as long as he lived, as long as she asked.

Relief crossed Beth’s face as he closed the door, settling on the floor by the bed. From the corner, the candle burned bright enough that it illuminated their faces with an orangey glow. They were silent for a few minutes but silence between them was just another way they communicated. He knew by now that when she was suspended in thought, her hand would go absently to the braid in her hair, and sure enough when he looked at her, her fingers were worrying at the end of the plait. Feeling his gaze on her, she turned. Then, she lay down on the bed so that her head was as close to his as she could get. Her bright blue eyes stayed on him, her nose inches away. When she was this close, it was hard to breathe.

‘I’m glad we didn’t have to say goodbye, Daryl.’ Beth said slowly after a beat. Tentatively, she reached out and with the tips of her fingers coaxed his hand out of his lap and onto the bed. At her touch, Daryl’s skin caught fire. She traced his long-bruised knuckles slowly and he let out a small breath, eyes fluttering closed almost involuntarily.

‘I don’t ever want to say goodbye to you.’ Beth’s voice shook a little but it only made her words more endearing. At her own words, she let out a soft laugh, eyes finding his again and catching Daryl by surprise by how they managed to elicit the same joy out of him. Her fingers still played against his skin.

Daryl sucked in a breath at her words, barely believing a sentiment so beautiful could be meant for him. She didn’t say anything else and he didn’t either, but he knew now that they had shifted once again, into even deeper waters, something more intimate than either of them could imagine. And there might be a day in the coming weeks where their lips would meet and allow for them to be more vulnerable still, and another day where they would spend hours laying in the grass outside, staring at the sky and scarcely daring to believe how lucky they were, hands intertwined and hardly able to think there was a time they were afraid of telling the other how they felt.

But for the moment, his hand was in hers and her smile was sunshine and she was looking at him as though he’d hung the stars in the sky, and that was enough for now.


End file.
